London Bridge
by Verdreht
Summary: Bridge is falling down. After a hard battle and a glitch in his powers, he's not doing so well. Lucky for Bridge, there a certain Blue Ranger who refuses to let him fall. Sky/Brige Slash
1. Chapter 1

"I'm going to neuter that damn dog!" Sky fumed as he, Z, and Jack made their way to the scene of the fight in the Delta Cruiser. Cruger was supposed to be some master tactician, so one could imagine his surprise when, coming in from a routine training exercise with two of his friends, he found that Bridge and Syd had been sent out to deal with a disturbance in the industrial district.

Normally, that would've been all well and good. Sure, his boyfriend was aloof as they came – maybe even a little more so – but he could handle himself in a fight. Syd, too. It wasn't until he'd seen the CCTV footage and gotten the full story that he'd worked himself into a fury.

Cruger hadn't just sent them out to deal with a disturbance; no, that damn canine had sent _two_ rangers out to deal with thirty krybots, at least. The fight hadn't gotten too far underway by the time Cruger called on them for reinforcements, but it was still enough to leave Sky's gut churning at the thought of _his_ Bridge trying to deal with that many krybots.

"Easy, man!" Jack practically yelped from the passenger seat. He was holding onto the roll bar as if his life depended on it. Then again, with the way Sky was taking those turns, maybe it did. "We're not gonna be much help to Bridge or Syd if you wreck the cruiser!"

As much as he hated to admit it, Jack had a point. Easing up off the gas pedal – if only a little – he slowed to a slightly-less-suicidal speed of eighty-five in the sixty-five mph zone. They were only a few blocks away from the distress signal, and the GPS was beeping furiously. Their destination was a concrete opening, nestled between two old, abandoned warehouses.

Sky slammed on the breaks when they reached it, shifting the cruiser into park as he leapt out of it. It hadn't even slowed to a stop before Sky was on the ground, and Jack and Z weren't far behind him.

They'd only just set foot on the trash-covered tarmac when Syd came stumbling over to them. She was holding her shoulder and crouching like she'd just been hit, and a glance a little ways ahead of her revealed a set of possible suspects for the hit.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, steadying his friend. They weren't morphed, and Syd's face was covered in dirt.

All the same, she straightened and nodded. Whatever the hit must have been that sent her stumbling, it didn't seem to have been all that bad.

"Where's Bridge?" Sky demanded, and if he sounded harsh, it was unintentional. He was just worried. Normally, Bridge was smack dab in the middle of the fight.

Out of breath, Syd replied, "These guys here are only a few of them. Most of the krybots are over behind those shipping containers over there. Bridge is over there with—"

The heavy clangs of thick, hollow metal echoed between the warehouses. It sounded suspiciously like bodies hitting those same shipping containers, and the Rangers started to run towards the sound.

They made it to the end of one of the shipping containers when something green and airborne caught their attention. With a cry that sounded equal parts surprised and pained, Bridge came flying at them. He hit the ground a few meters in front of them, before anyone could make it there to catch him, and he went down hard.

Sky was at his side in seconds, a hand between his shoulder blades helping him up. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" he asked. He hoped the prod would hide the concern in his voice, but knowing Bridge, it probably didn't. Even with his gloves on, Bridge was the most empathetic person Sky had ever met.

Bridge smiled brightly, though it looked to be thinly concealing a wince. "I thought I was doing pretty well there, Sky. The whole flying thing was just part of a brilliant master plan I was about to set in motion. I guess I won't be needing it now, though, since you guys are here and all."

"Guess not," Sky said, and stood. He offered Bridge a hand, which the younger Ranger took, and hauled him to his feet.

He may not have been psychometric or anything like Bridge was, but Sky knew his boyfriend enough to know that he was hurting. Whether it was that last attempt at flight, or the rest of the battle, Sky couldn't be sure, but he was definitely feeling the hurt.

The krybots were converging on them as Sky and Bridge took their places in the line-up. At the front, Jack stared firmly ahead. "Let's show these guys what we can _really_ do," he said. They all took that as their cue, and one by one, they morphed.

Law be damned, these were just krybots, and they'd hurt Bridge.

Sky took no prisoners.


	2. Chapter 2

His head hurt. No, it was worse than that. It didn't just hurt; it split, it screamed, it pounded. God, it was so loud, so crowded in there. So many people, so many thoughts. Everyone was so busy with something or another, and so many of them were sad or hurting. It was why he hated the infirmary. Everyone was either hurting or frantic, and thoughts were always racing.

Today was different though. Ever since he'd hit his head on that asphalt a few hours ago, it had been different. It was like all his shields had fallen; he couldn't concentrate hard enough to keep them up, so everything came flooding in. He couldn't hear their thoughts – not the words of them, anyway – but he could _feel _them in his head.

And the colors. Oh, God, the colors. They exploded in front of his eyes, an impossible kaleidoscope of so many colors all violently mixed together. He could hardly see anything else.

He felt moisture on his face, near his eyes, but he felt it on his forehead too. He didn't know what was tears, what was sweat, and what was blood. Was he bleeding? He didn't know if he was, but he hoped he wasn't. He hated to bleed. It got red all over everything, and he'd never looked very good in red, and it made Sky worry, too. He hated it when Sky worried. It made him feel good that someone cared, that someone like _Sky_ could care about someone like him, but he hated to see the lines of worry mar Sky's perfect face.

"Think about Sky. Sky's nice. Sky in blue; skies are blue. Pretty and strong and warm and cool all at the same time. Think about sky. One color, one pretty color. Just one color!" he cried aloud. He couldn't hear his own thoughts in his over-crowded head. Repeated out loud, the mantra only barely managed to register over the roaring chaos going on.

"Bridge? Bridge, honey, I need you to look at me."

He knew that voice. It was so loud, so sharp. He remembered that he normally liked that voice, but he didn't know when it had gotten so shrill. Right now, it was like nails against his ears. Cat claws. _Kat's_ claws.

"Kat. You're Kat. Orange all over, you're so bright. Please, don't be so bright," he begged. He tried to shut his eyes against it, but he could still see it in his head, burning like a fire in his brain. His stomach was churning and his body hurt all over; he was hot and cold at the same time, and nothing made sense!

"Remember your shields, Bridge."

Remember them? How could he forget them? He needed them so much, and he couldn't conjure them. he couldn't think long enough to keep them up; there was something missing in his head. Something that the color had pushed out, something that the pain had pushed out. It was so weird, to feel so tired and so frantic at the same time.

"I can't!" he screamed, and the sound of his own voice sent pain exploding behind his eyes. Everything was so loud!

Bridge was hugging his knees to his chest, his hands clamped over his ears. His eyes went between being opened and closed, but they never gave the illusion of seeing. Tears streamed from them, and the cut on his head wept blood down the side of his narrow face.

Kat was worried, and she was starting to lose her nerve which was something that never happened. Ever since Bridge had come in complaining of a headache a little while ago, he'd been going downhill fast. If she had to take a guess, she'd say he might have a concussion, which might've been interfering with his shields.

But what could she do? She couldn't send everyone out of the infirmary. Maybe though…they had a room. It was isolated, mostly used for quarantines, but she'd used it before when Bridge was having bad days. She'd never seen him like this before, but she thought that maybe it could help.

At the same time, she was afraid to move him. He was a psychometric, after all; just one brush of her skin against his could make things a hundred times worse than this. Brilliant as she was, she didn't have the mental blocks required to actually touch the young man.

In fact, on the whole base, there was only one person that seemed able to touch young Bridge directly whenever he felt like. Kisses, hugs, held hands, or just passing touches, she'd seen him touch Bridge without any problems. Resolved, she ran for the comm. desk.

"Paging Cadet Tate. You're needed in the Infirmary. It's an emergency!"


	3. Chapter 3

Sky hated paperwork. Really, he hated it, and yet somehow, he always ended up getting stuck doing it after every mission. Jack and Z always came up with some excuse to get out of it, and Syd, for all her talents, couldn't fill out a line to save her life. Only Bridge ever offered to help, and sometimes, bless him, he did more harm than good. Not that he could be blamed for it, of course. It was just his tendency to go on mental tangents didn't exactly look good on mission reports. All the same, the Green Ranger was always happy to volunteer to fill out Unit Numbers, Dates, and anything else that Sky needed.

But then, that was Bridge: always happy to help, no matter how awful the task. Most of the time, it was a trait Sky found endearing; other times, though, it was a trait that worried the hell out of the older Ranger. Today, for instance. Leave it to Bridge to take on a horde of twenty krybots all by himself. He couldn't divvy it up even and try to hold them off until help got there; no, he had to rush into it with that same vim and vigor with which he approached everything else.

He guessed that was part of what made he and Bridge such a balanced couple. Bridge was all bouncing energy and optimism whereas Sky was the more reserved realist. He kept Bridge grounded sometimes, and Bridge kept him from getting too serious. According to Bridge, he kept him from being "boring and no fun at all."

Which was another reason that Sky hated paperwork. Command said if the team got the reports in that night – that is to say if _Sky_ got the reports in that night – they could have their weekend off. Sky for one could never resist the opportunity for a weekend of downtime with his favorite spastic psychic. Maybe this weekend he would take Bridge to that bakery he loved so much – buy him some buttered toast.

With a grin at the thought, Sky signed the last line on the last page of paperwork. And that was the end of the stack of malignant paper keeping him from some quality time with his boyfriend. Come to think of it, he wondered where Bridge could've gotten off to. He hadn't really seen him since he got back from the mission.

Just as he was standing up from his desk, though, a message came over the comm. system.

_"Paging Cadet Tate._ _You're __needed in the Infirmary. It's an emergency!"_

Living as a Ranger, the term "emergency" gets a whole new meaning. Sky was on his feet and out the door before the comm. lines even got the chance to shut down. His long legs carried him impossibly fast down the corridors, in between the people in the hallway, until at least he came to the infirmary.

At first, nothing looked out of the ordinary. And then he saw it.

Over by the corner bed, Kat stood with her arms out like she was trying to placate a small child. It wasn't until Sky started to approach that he figured out what it was she was trying to assuage.

Or, more appropriately, _whom_.

Sitting on the bed, rocking with his knees pulled to his chest, was Bridge. He was still in his SPD uniform, but that was about all Sky could tell about him. He had his arms folded over his head, and his face tucked into his knees like he was trying to hide from the world.

Sky wasted no time closing the rest of the distance to the bed.

"It's his powers," Kat said, as she stepped to the side to give Sky some room.

"It's the colors!" Bridge snapped in almost childish protest, his voice muffled by his knees.

Worry knotted Sky's brows as he put his hands on Bridge's trembling shoulders. "Bridge, baby, what about the colors?" he asked. Normally, he was a little hesitant to use Bridge's pet name – with their four-year age difference, the name seemed appropriate enough – but this seemed like a good time to make an exception. He knew Bridge was talking about his psychometry, but he needed to know what exactly was going on.

"They're so bright, Sky," Bridge whimpered, and Sky was reminded very suddenly just how young his boyfriend was. He sounded like a child, desperate and pleading for relief. "Please make them stop! They're in my head, Sky, burning, and there's so many of them. Please just make them stop!"

"Shh, I will, Bridge. I'll make them stop," Sky soothed, and then turned to Kat. "What happened to him? He wasn't like this when I saw him last."

No, Bridge had been just fine when they'd come back. Well, he'd been a little banged up, but he'd had worse from training exercises. Bridge had said he was going to go to the cafeteria to get some food; Sky had insisted he swing by the medical bay first, just to make sure he was okay. There was a cut on his head, just over his eyebrow on the left side of his face, and it had swelled up a bit. Just to be safe, Sky wanted him to get it checked out.

Seemed like he'd had the right idea.

Kat frowned deeply. "I think he has a concussion. He was apparently injured in the last battle as well, but I can't touch him to examine him. A combination of his head wound and possibly the shock from his other injuries could have jarred his system enough weaken his mental shields, so we need to get him somewhere isolated. The quarantine room is open, but I didn't want to risk anyone else touching him."

"Okay, I'll follow you," Sky said, and then returned his attention to Bridge. "I've got to pick you up, baby. Just bear with me, okay?"

When Bridge didn't reply, the worry lines deepened on Sky's face. He managed to worm an arm under Bridge's locked-up knees, and hooked the other behind his shoulders. With little to no effort at all, he lifted Bridge up off the medical bed and followed Kat through a door in the back of the infirmary. There was already another medical bed made up in the middle of the room, and Sky carried his lighter-than-average boyfriend over to it.

"Try to get him calmed down a little, and get his vitals for me so we can figure out what to do about sedation."

With that, Kat stepped outside of the room and closed the door. It seemed she was going to give them a little privacy, for which he was grateful. It was always easier to help Bridge during his kicks when he could be alone with him.

Turning his attention back to Bridge, he saw that his psychic had curled back in on himself. He had his knees tucked back to his chest and his arms drawn around them – hiding away from the world.

It wasn't like this happened a lot. Maybe once every couple of months or so, and even less so now, after years and years of training in the Academy. Sky liked to think he might've played a part in helping with them, too.

Still, even though it didn't happen that much, he had a procedure for it. Bridge always laughed at him for it, but he had a procedure for everything. He liked the order it provided, and in times like this, it helped.

First things first, he had to get Bridge to look at him. He couldn't do anything until he could get Bridge out of his own head and into a more…common ground.

Slowly, Sky turned Bridge on the bed so that he was facing him. One by one, he pulled each of his legs away from his chest so that they were hanging down off the side of the bed, on either side of Sky's hips.

Bridge let out a whine of protest as his sanctuary was slowly taken away from him. He still had his arms up by his eyes, his gloved hands fisted in his wild brown hair in a vice grip.

"Tell them to go away, Sky. They'll listen to you; tell the colors to go away." He sounded so childlike, so pitiful.

It was breaking Sky's heart. "I need you to look at me first, okay baby? Just look at me first." When it became apparent that Bridge had no intention of taking his arms away from his face by himself, Sky reached for his wrists. The moment Sky's hands settled on Bridge's thin wrists, though, Bridge let out another whine.

"I can't look," Bridge protested. "If open them, my eyes'll burn. All the colors…"

"There's no more colors," Sky told him gently. "It's just me, okay? It's just you and me in here; you can open your eyes."

For the briefest of moments, Bridge seemed to consider it. But then, as if he was literally debating with himself, he shook his head and started trying to pull his arms away.

"No, no, no," Sky said. He dropped his arms from Bridge's wrists, and instead put them around his shoulders, pulling him forward against his chest. He didn't want Bridge to squirm himself straight off the other side of the bed – it had been known to happen – but more than that, he wanted to comfort him. Despite his condition, Bridge was a surprisingly physical person. He relished even the most fleeting of touches; being held to him was like a godsend. "Shh…It's okay, baby. Just trust me; it's going to be okay."

As he held him, Sky felt Bridge's shoulders shake with silent sobs. "I'm sorry, it's just so bright," he choked out.

"I know, I know," Sky said. As he spoke, though, he carefully slipped a hand around one of Bridge's wrists. He held Bridge against him as he did, and slowly, he managed to push Bridge's wrist down to his lap. When Sky reached for the other one with his other hand, Bridge made to pull back, but Sky grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him close again.

"Hey, it's all right, Bridge. It's just me." He forced a chuckle as eased Bridge's arm away from his face. "You always said my colors were dull, remember?"

"Soft," Bridge corrected, and Sky could have sworn he heard a little bit of Bridge's normal cheer bleeding through the absolute misery. "Easy on the eyes."

Sky let out a quiet chuckle despite himself as he released Bridge's wrist into his lap. Bridge was leaning against him now, his face buried in Sky's shoulder. The younger Ranger's first hand had found its way into the fabric at the hem of Sky's shirt, and was clutching it tightly as Sky sat him back.

"Can you look at me then?" he asked.

Head bowed, Bridge frowned. "I can't open my eyes, Sky."

In passing, Sky acknowledged that he might not actually be able to open one of them. The one with the cut seemed to be swelling before his very eyes, getting darker and darker as it went. Blood had caked in his eyebrow and over his eyelid. The other eye was fine, though, and it was important he get Bridge concentrating on just one thing. He wasn't self-centered enough to think that it had to be him, really, but he _was_ the most conveniently accessible.

And besides, he was "easy on the eyes."

"Yes, you can, baby. I know you can. It's just me here, okay?" He put a hand on either side of Bridge's face, brushing his thumbs over his high cheekbones. "Come on, don't you trust me?"

He knew that was a low blow. Of course Bridge trusted him, but if his powers were on the fritz, the poor kid was probably having a hard time getting his head around much of anything. Bridge had told him once that it was kind of like someone blasting fireworks in his head – so many colors, so many lights, so much noise, and so many feelings, all at once.

But Bridge lived to please, and this time was no exception. He didn't say anything, but Sky got all the response he needed when those baby blues slowly peeled open. He'd been right about his left one; it didn't open much more than a sliver, and the right one was squinted, too.

Still, it seemed that whatever colors he saw when he opened his eyes were a little more bearable than the ones in his head. That was what Sky'd been hoping for. It wasn't like changing rooms could keep the projections from hitting Bridge, but it would isolate them enough that the only ones he could physically _see_ would be Sky's.

If Sky could get him to focus on him, he could help him. He could help to dull the pain that was driving Bridge up the wall now that his shields were down. After all, shields were Sky's specialty. Even now, he could see a little bit of the frantic hysteria leaving Bridge's impossibly blue eyes.

Just as soon as the tension relaxed, though, it returned. Bridge knotted his eyebrows, and it made the cut over his brow start to bleed fresh. A look of upset crossed his features, and he brought one gloved hand up to the side of his head while the other curled around his stomach.

Sky felt a sharp tug of concern, as he slipped his hand between Bridge's hand and his head. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Instead of the panic from before, Bridge gave a moan and leaned his head forward against Sky's chest. "I don't feel so good," he mumbled.

"Is it your head?"

Bridge shook his head, but seemed to promptly decide that wasn't a good idea. "No. I mean yes, but it's not…it's different." Suddenly, the Green Ranger turned greener than anyone had any right to be. "Sky, I feel sick."

Having known his boyfriend since their Academy years, he knew exactly what that meant, and hurriedly snatched the trash bin from the side of the room. He held it up under Bridge's chin just in time for Bridge to double over and spew the contents of his stomach.

_Probably toast, _Sky thought a little disgustedly. He made sure to breathe through his mouth so that the smell wouldn't get his own stomach churning, but otherwise, he had bigger concerns. Bridge was heaving violently, and Sky was having to hold a hand to his chest to keep the smaller ranger from doubling over.

Eventually, things stopped coming up with his heaves, and after a few rounds of dry heaves, Bridge managed to get his convulsions under control. As Sky set the bin aside and returned to Bridge, he noticed his boyfriend looked alarmingly pale. His eyes were even more dazed than usual, and wet with tears.

That, more than anything, set Sky's heart thudding against his chest. Bridge, for all his childish innocence, _didn't_ cry. He just didn't. He remembered times when Bridge had broken bones and laughed it off before he passed out, or passed out and then laughed it off when he woke up. There had only been a few times, after a particularly bad day with his powers, when he was so caught up in the pain and the madness in his head that he broke down in tears. For the Green Ranger to be crying now, it meant things had to be bad.

"Sky, I…" Bridge began, his eyes fading in and out of focus. He was starting to lean off to the side, like he couldn't keep his balance.

"What is it?" Sky asked, trying hard not to show the panic he felt. "Bridge, what's wrong?"

"I think I need to lay down."

And with that, Bridge pitched sideways onto the bed, unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Sky had never felt so low in his life. Never. Not when his name had shown up for the very first time in second place on the test results (Bridge had always been better at science), not when he first morphed blue instead of red, and not even when he'd almost cost the team a victory.

Because in all those times, Bridge had never ended up like this.

It was almost surreal, seeing him lying there on that medical table. He was so still...it wasn't like Bridge to be so still. Even when he was sleeping, he was in constant motion. On the nights when Bridge decided Sky's bed was too big for him – spatially speaking, it wasn't – Bridge would find new and innovative ways to optimize the space. He'd inch closer, he'd smile in his sleep, and sometimes, he'd mumble small incoherent nothings. At first, it had taken some getting used to, but now Sky found a hard time falling asleep without it.

It was only when he was sedated that he ever lay completely still like this, and this was no exception. The thin tube running to the crook of his elbow was proof of that, attached to the IV bag hanging from the rack by his bed. They'd had to put him under pretty far this time; Kat said he'd woken up while they were treating him and freaked out. Too many people touching him directly...Sky couldn't imagine what that had to feel like for him to wake up to.

As if he wasn't in enough pain to begin with. There was his concussion, which would have been bad enough. The cut over his brow had swollen pretty badly while he was out, and his whole left eye was shrouded in a deep purple bruise. They'd had to shave off some of his eyebrow where the cut dipped down into it, so that they could get the stitches and steri strips in place. Bridge would probably get a kick out of that when he woke up.

The rest of it, though, probably wouldn't be quite so funny to him. His back was scraped up really bad, and Kat said they'd pulled out half a tree's worth of splinters from him. The worst of it was a gash that stretched from his right clavicle to the back of his shoulder blade, and if the shoulder hadn't been dislocated, then it had to have come pretty close, because it was all bruised and swollen. His best guess was that he'd been thrown through a box or something.

Or kicked through it, more likely. There were a fair few bruises around his ribs, and though he didn't have any breaks, three of them were cracked. Between them and his back, he had a bandage that wrapped around his shoulder and went all the way down to his navel.

There was his leg, too. It wasn't too bad; for the most part, it was just a sprain. The collateral ligaments in his knee had been torn a little, both inside and outside his knee, probably from a kick gone wrong. Sky had hurt his knee like that once, though, playing Varsity Light Ball back at the Academy, and he knew it could lay you flat for a while. For now, Kat had it in a brace and they'd propped it up on a pillow to help keep the swelling down.

All in all, there was nothing life threatening about his injuries. If it hadn't been for his powers going on the fritz, he probably would've been awake and alert. Life-threatening or not, though, that didn't change the fact that Sky hadn't seen. He should've known better, he told himself. He should've seen that Bridge was hurt, and he should've done something about it sooner.

Of course, that was something he'd be keeping to himself. Kat had already torn him a new one for thinking that way, and he wasn't eager for a repeat.

_"I know what you're thinking," Kat chimed as she finished checking Bridge's vitals. The heart monitor by his bed was beeping a steady rhythm, but she was still checking on his IV lines and such. _

_ Sky looked up from his study of Bridge's sleeping face. "Oh really?" he asked. _

_ "Yes, really. You're thinking this is your fault." _

_ "You say that like it isn't." _

_ Kat sighed. "I think we both know it isn't, Sky. You're not the one that gave him the concussion." _

_ "Or the cracked ribs, or the scratched back, or the strained knee, or the—"_

_ "Sky! This isn't your fault. You backed him up as soon as you could, and if it weren't for you, he wouldn't have even come to the infirmary. Who knows what could've happened then?" _

_ That wasn't something Sky wanted to think about. _

_ "Wait until Bridge is feeling better; I'm sure he'll set you straight." _

Sky was still waiting to test that theory. It had been almost a day, now. Kat had only just stopped by to take him off the sedatives. With any luck, the day's rest would've given his subconscious enough time to piece his mental shields back together. They had him on some analgesics too, for the pain, so he would hopefully feel better, too.

Of course, that was all theoretical. They wouldn't know for sure until Bridge actually woke up.

Which, if the soft groan coming from the medical bed was any indication, was going to happen sooner rather than later.

Sky was at his side in an instant, leaning over the bed and watching intently as Bridge started to stir. The very next second, though, Bridge was trying to sit up, and Sky got the feeling that wasn't a good idea just yet.

Putting a hand on Bridge's uninjured shoulder, he held him back to the foam of the bed. "Hey, hey, not so fast, huh?" he said gently. With his spare hand, he carded his fingers through Bridge's sleep-tousled hair.

For a moment, Bridge strained against him. A half-frustrated, half-asleep noise broke from his throat, and he forced his eye open. It seemed the other one just wasn't going to open right then. His gaze was unfocused for a second, but as the grogginess started to clear, he started to relax back onto the bed.

Sky rewarded him with a smile, stroking his thumb over Bridge's bare shoulder. Bridge was so used to Sky (and Sky's mental shields were so much better than the average individual) that nothing came of the skin-to-skin contact but a gentle reassurance to the disoriented psychic.

"Hey there, sleepy," he greeted. "Have a nice nap?"

"Nap?" Bridge asked. The word sounded heavy, like his tongue was still dragging from the sedatives. Frankly, Sky didn't doubt it. Bridge always had a weird time with sedatives; he would wake up quick, but take hours to come all the way out of it. "'m I napping? 'cause if this is a dream, 's not a fun one. It's all dizzy and sore. Not a fun dream at all."

"It's not a dream, baby," Sky told him. "You're in the medical bay, remember?"

Bridge seemed to think for a second. "I don't remember," he said, shaking his head. He winced, then, and frowned. "But that would explain why my head hurts. Or maybe my head would explain why I'm in the medical bay. My head isn't explaining things very well right now, though. I think it needs another nap."

At Bridge's confused ramblings, Sky was torn between laughing and worrying. It was such a relief to see him returning to his normal Bridge; after yesterday's episode, he'd been really worried about him. Still, he was hurting, and that was enough to make Sky an unhappy man.

"Why don't you take another nap, then?" he suggested. He reasoned Bridge could probably do with the sleep, anyway.

But Bridge shook his head again. This time, he actually went to hold his head, only to let out a hiss as his injured shoulder protested the movement. "That didn't feel so great," he muttered in his 'I'm Mostly Talking To Myself But Feel Free To Join In' voice.

Sky frowned sympathetically. "Try not to move too much, Bridge," he said. "You don't want to bust your stitches."

"I've got stitches?" Bridge asked. He started to reach up towards his shoulder, but stopped when he felt something pull at his left elbow. "I've got an IV." He looked up at Sky, a mixed look of wonder and fear on his face. "Sky, I've got an IV. Why've I got an IV? Am I sick? I got an IV once when I was sick – that one time when I couldn't even keep my toast down, and you had to stay up with me, and Kat was all worried…am I sick like that?"

With each question, the beeping on Bridge's heart monitor sped up. Sky quickly decided he needed to calm him down - Kat might sedate him again if he got too worked up – and rubbed his upper arm reassuringly. "You're not sick like that. You're a little banged up, so you're getting some stuff for the pain, and some fluids because you were a little dehydrated. You're okay, though."

"If you say so, Sky," Bridge said, and to Sky's amazement, he was smiling. Even with the medicine Kat was giving him, Sky knew he had to be hurting, and yet there was that smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes, and showed off those adorable dimples that Sky couldn't get enough of.

With a smile of his own, Sky reached back and pulled the chair he'd been sitting in a little closer. That way, when he sat down, he could still keep his hand on Bridge's shoulder, and Bridge could still see him.

For a long moment, they sat like that. Bridge was staring up at the dimly-lit ceiling, his mind no doubt miles away like it always was. Sky, of course, was staring at Bridge, taking time to appreciate the fact that his Bridge was awake and, for the most part, okay.

Suddenly, though, Bridge was staring directly at him. "Sky, what's wrong?" he asked.

Sky knotted his eyebrows confusedly. "What do you mean, Bridge?"

"You've got your worry lines," Bridge said, and Sky could only gape as Bridge raised his good arm – IV line and all – and traced his fingers along Sky's forehead. The backs of his fingers barely glanced over the lines that ran between his drawn brows. "Which means you've been worrying about something. Which means something's wrong, so what is it?"

Bridge's question was so earnest, so sincere. Sky couldn't help smiling, as he reached up to slip his fingers into Bridge's. Bringing the back of his ungloved hands to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the soft skin before he lowered it back to the bed. "Nothing's wrong, baby," he lied.

"Everyone says you have such a wicked poker face," Bridge mused. "I just don't see it. It's all in the eyes. You have very talkative eyes, Sky, did you know that?"

"I don't know about my eyes, but I have a very talkative boyfriend," he replied with a soft, teasing smile.

"Yeah," Bridge agreed. "But your eyes…they're really sad. Worried. You're worried about me, aren't you, Sky?"

Sky blanched. People always accused Bridge of being oblivious, but really, he was the most observant person Sky knew. He saw everything; he just saw it a little differently. Given that, there really wasn't any point in lying.

He sighed. "I was. I mean, I am, I guess. It's just…why didn't you tell me, Bridge? You were hurt, and you didn't tell me."

Bridge knotted his eyebrows. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know I was hurt?" he asked hopefully.

For a long moment, Sky blinked at him. "If it was anyone else," he said finally, "not a chance. But you, Bridge…honestly, it wouldn't surprise me." And it wouldn't. He'd done stranger. "Can I ask how, though?"

"I don't see why not," Bridge replied. It was only after a few seconds of awkward, pointed silence that Bridge realized there was actually more to the question. "This is one of those questions that actually means you want the answer to another question, isn't it?"

"We'll go with that, yeah."

"Oh." Bridge pursed his lips thoughtfully for a second, staring up at the ceiling again. After a moment, he just shrugged. Of course, that shrug turned into a wince, and it took him a few more seconds before he actually got around to responding. "I just thought I was sore. I couldn't really see anything, you know, and I get headaches a _lot_. You made me go to the medical bay, though, so I went because you're usually right about stuff like that. It just…it got really loud when I got there. It got so crowded in my head, and everything just kind of exploded behind my eyes." He frowned. "I hate it when that happens."

"You and me both," Sky muttered.

"I'm fine now, though," Bridge said. "So I can go, right? I mean, we can go. I wouldn't leave you here. Not that Doctor Manx would let you stay here, because you're not a patient and all, but yeah, we should get going." With that, Bridge started to push himself up again. He made it a lot farther this time, though, before Sky could stop him.

Actually, Sky didn't stop him at all. He sat up just a couple of inches, and suddenly, an intense flash of pain brought forth a cry of surprise from his lips. He fell back to the foam bed, all his breath leaving his lungs in a rush.

Sky felt his heart wrench sympathetically as Bridge's face screwed up into a grimace. "Bad idea," Bridge hissed through grit teeth. "Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad Bridge."

Normally, that would've been the point where Sky made some offhand sarcastic comment about how _of course_ that had been a bad idea. The look on Bridge's face was much too serious for that, though. He really was in pain, and lots of it.

Rising from his chair, he slipped a hand behind Bridge's head as his young boyfriend tried and failed to breathe through the pain. "It's okay, baby. It'll pass, just try to relax," he told him. Sweat had started to bead on his forehead. The blanket he'd been covered in had fallen to pool around his waist when he'd tried to sit up, revealing the rapid, tense rise and fall of his chest with each breath he struggled to take. Bridge really was too skinny – in his pajama pants, his hip bones jutted out, and had it not been for the bandages, Sky knew he would've been able to count every one of his ribs.

When the pain didn't seem to pass, Sky felt the familiar rise of panic strike his chest. "What hurts, Bridge?" He was starting to worry that his boyfriend had pulled his stitches or something.

"Everywhere," Bridge said through his clenched teeth. "My everywhere hurts. Didn't think I had an everywhere. I have one now. It hurts."

Sky frowned. "Doctor Manx gave you your last dose three hours ago. You can't have any more for at least another hour."

Bridge let out a choked chuckle. "That's…long time." With each word, his chest heaved.

"We were kind of hoping you'd be sleeping until your next dose," Sky admitted. As happy as he was that Sky was awake, he would've been happy to wait another hour so that Bridge didn't have to hurt quite so much.

"Sleep longer. Got it," Bridge hissed. He looked so pitiful. Whatever he'd jarred when he'd moved had hurt him pretty bad it seemed, and there was nothing he could do for another hour.

…Actually, that wasn't quite true. He couldn't medicate his boyfriend, but Bridge was susceptible to other forms of comfort as well.

Yeah, that would work. It had to. Bridge couldn't suffer like this for another hour.

Resolved, Sky started to make his move. The medical bed wasn't too big, but he and Bridge had plenty of experience in fitting into too-small beds. "I'm going to try something, okay Bridge? I'm going to have to move you a little, but I'll be as careful as I can."

Bridge barely seemed to hear him, but he did manage a reply. "M'kay."

With Bridge's go-ahead, Sky slipped an arm behind Bridge's scraped-up back and with a few careful lifts, he managed to get Bridge lying a little further down the bed. He wasted no time kicking off his own shoes and shrugging out of his jacket before he slid onto the bed behind him.

There were a few spare pillows, and after he raised the back of the medical bed, he managed to get himself propped up pretty well behind Bridge. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and with a little maneuvering, he managed to get it so that Bridge was lying between his outstretched legs, resting back against Sky's chest.

"There we go; I'm all done, okay? You can breathe again."

As if that was what he'd been waiting for, Bridge released a breath and a little of the tension in his shoulders went slack. "Totally worth it," he panted, and Sky got the feeling that if he hadn't been feeling so puny, Bridge probably would've snuggled back against him.

Bridge _was_ feeling puny, though, and once he was there against Sky's chest, he didn't seem keen on moving even just a little bit. That was just fine with Sky, though, because what he had in mind didn't require any movement on Bridge's part.

With all the ease of practiced familiarity, Sky brought his fingers to rest on Bridge's temples. Careful to avoid any of the swelling or bruising on the left side of Bridge's face, he began to trace his fingers lightly over the lines of Bridge's face. He brushed his thumbs along his cheekbones, caressing his cheeks and stroking his fingers along his hairline, all in one steady, rhythmic pattern. As he worked, he slowly let his shields slip, just enough to let Bridge _feel_ him. He focused as much calm, as much peace through that single slip in his shield, letting it flow through his careful hands to set his beloved psychometric at ease.

It was working. At first, nothing changed, but after a few minutes of Sky's loving ministrations, Bridge began to melt like the butter on his beloved toast. The pain ebbed from his young face, and though Bridge's fingers continued to tap, the rest of him eased into a relaxed stillness.

It didn't take long after that for Bridge's one un-swollen eye to begin to slide closed, and Sky couldn't help smiling. Sometimes Bridge was like a little kid; and sometimes, Bridge reminded him a lot of a puppy. It didn't matter that Sky's long legs were getting stiff, or that Bridge's bony shoulder blades were nestled dangerously close to Sky's kidneys. Bridge was calming down; his pain was starting to fade, and he was finally getting some of the peace and quiet he needed.

"Sky…" Bridge mumbled. It was barely audible, just a whisper, and a sleepy one at that.

Sky just smiled. "Shh," he whispered, "just go to sleep, baby." He took care to keep his tone soft and steady, so that he didn't break the pseudo-spell of his gentle touches.

For the longest moment, Bridge didn't reply. Sky thought he might've fallen asleep. But then, eyes still closed and mouth barely moving, he whispered something that gave Sky's worried heart a much-needed break.

"Love you…"

And Sky's grin grew, as he brushed his fingers through Bridge's wild hair. "I love you, too."

Of course, Bridge was already asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure we can go in?" Jack asked Kat as they reached the door in the back of the medical bay.

"You're probably going to want to see him before we move him back to his quarters," Kat replied. She had every intention of drugging the psychic up for that ordeal, so this would probably be the last time he was coherent enough for company – Sky not included – for a couple of hours at least.

Obviously, though, despite her reassurances, the other Rangers were still unsure. They'd been in such a tizzy when they found out that Bridge was in the medical bay, and yet they were being such children about going to see them. Well, she was going to give them a nudge in the right direction.

Reaching in front of them, she pushed the door open and gestured inside. "Well?" she pressed. "Go!"

At Kat's less-than-gentle urgings, Jack, Z, and Syd all finally made their way inside.

"Oh, hi guys," Bridge greeted, pushing himself up a little further on the bed. He was sitting back on the bed, propped up by the back of the bed and a small mountain of pillows. Sky was sitting in the chair beside him, but when Bridge started to try to get up to give his friends a more proper greeting, Sky jumped up and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Remember what happened last time?" Sky said.

Bridge pursed his lips. "Yeah, that wasn't very fun."

"So maybe we shouldn't do it again?"

"Probably not," Bridge said.

The other three Rangers watched as Sky rolled his eyes fondly and propped his hip up on the bed beside Bridge. They were no strangers to the way Sky acted around Bridge, but they'd never really seen him so...open about it.

Of course, not that they'd hold it against him. When Kat had told them, she'd said it was pretty bad. They all knew Sky loved the youngest Ranger, and they couldn't imagine how hard it had been on him to see Bridge like he was. Even now, two days after the fact, he looked pretty rough. His head was bandaged and his eye was swollen shut, and his bare torso was swathed in a fair bit of bandages.

Syd was the first to approach the bed, having known Bridge the longest, and the Green Ranger's grin widened. "Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?" she asked, folding her hand over Bridge's gloved hands. Sky had gotten her to bring some of Bridge's gloves from their room – the ones he'd been wearing were sweaty and torn up – because he knew his fellow Rangers were touchy.

"I'm good," Bridge said, giving Syd a thumbs up with his other hand.

Syd's eyes promptly fell down to the IV in the crook of Bridge's arm, and then flitted up to look at Sky. "Kat has him on the good stuff, huh?" she asked.

"How could you tell?" Jack asked earnestly from behind her.

"He's sitting still," Z supplied. She'd walked over to the side by Sky, and smiled at her younger friend. She went to put her hand on his shoulder, but at the last moment, remembered his bare skin and thought better of it. Instead, she adjusted the covers around his narrow hips. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Z. And Syd, and Jack, and Sky, even though you've been here all day." A look of confusion suddenly crossed his face, and he turned as much as he could to see Sky. "You _have_ been here all day. When do you sleep?" He looked at Z. "Did you teach him that doppelganger trick or something? Because that would be really weird. Lots of Sky copies all over the place; lazy cadets would run in terror." Bridge chuckled a little, and Sky just smiled.

"So when do you think you'll be back in action?" Jack asked.

Bridge shrugged, but this time he didn't wince. Sky had already seen the shrug coming and put a restraining hand on his hurt shoulder to keep him from moving it. "Kat said I get to leave the med bay today."

It was apparent that to Bridge, that was pretty much the same thing. Sky quickly stepped in to clear up that misconception. "You're cleared to go to your quarters and _sleep_," he corrected, before turning back to Jack. "He's off active duty for another two weeks, until his knee and his shoulder heal up."

"I'll be better before then, though," Bridge said confidently, that same chipper smile on his face.

"You'll let me be the judge of that," said Kat as she walked into the room. She had her arms folded across her chest, and an almost motherly expression on her face.

"Right," Bridge agreed. "Because you're the doctor and all. I fix computers, but you know people a lot better than me. I don't think Cruger would trust me to say that about myself, anyway. Come to think of it, I'm not sure Cruger would trust me to say that about anyone. Or anything. He _still_ doesn't believe me when I say R.I.C. is ready for action. Has anyone walked him lately, by the way? He needs walks, or he gets all glitchy, and—"

Sky silenced him by tipping a finger under his chin. "I think Doctor Manx is here for a reason," he said.

Bridge suddenly beamed. "I can leave the med bay now?" he asked through his teeth. Sky still had his finger under his chin, so he was speaking without moving his jaw.

"We'll see," Kat said, and then cast a significant glance at Jack, Syd, and Z.

Z was the first to interpret the look. "Right, well, we've got some drills to run, so we'll see you later, okay Bridge?"

"Wait," Bridge started, and Sky let his hand drop from Bridge's chin so he could talk normally. It wasn't like it was _keeping_ him from talking in the first place, so the gesture was pointless anyway. "You just got here," he protested a little pitifully.

"I know, sweetie. Why don't we stop back by when your settled back in your quarters?" Syd suggested. Of course, they all knew that Bridge would probably be too out of it for visitors for a while after that, but Bridge didn't.

Jack smiled at him. "Yeah, that way we can all have a place to sit and everything."

"You can sit here," Bridge muttered. "I can make room."

"I know, buddy," Jack said, "but you know Cruger. He'll skin us if we miss another drill."

He didn't seem happy about it, but Bridge nodded a little. "Yeah. You probably wouldn't be very good conversation without your skin. All muscle and blood and stuff. It'd probably be pretty disgusting, actually. Not that you guys are disgusting or anything, I just—"

"We know, sweetie," Syd told him. "And we'll be back as soon as we can. Until then, you've got Sky to keep you company."

"Won't Cruger skin you, too?" Bridge asked, glancing over at Sky.

Sky shook his head. "Nope, I'm on official Bridge duty for a couple of days," he said.

"There, see?" Syd smiled. "You keep him busy for us, okay, Bridge? We'll see you later."

"Yeah, see ya, Bridge," Jack said.

With that, the three left the room, leaving Bridge alone with Sky and Kat. "All right, Bridge, are you ready to get out of here?" Kat asked.

One hour later found Bridge retching violently into the trash bin Sky was holding under his chin. It seemed he hadn't taken the move really well. His mental shields were there, but they weren't up to full strength, and between the move and the people they passed in the hallway, his headache had flared. With the headache came that same rolling nausea that had him doubled over the nearest trash receptacle.

It wouldn't be so bad, he guessed, except Kat had taken his IV out. That was one of the stipulations of him going back to his own bed: no more intravenous pain medicine. It was by mouth, or in the med bay – that was base protocol. Bridge had taken the pain medicine, but the nausea had him throwing it up a few minutes later.

The move alone had tired Bridge out, and now Sky was having to hold him up to keep him from falling forward off his bed. He was sitting on the bed beside him, and Kat was standing on his other side. Her fingers were pressed to the side of his neck as she watched her watch.

"Okay, Bridge, I think we need to go back to the medical bay," Kat told him.

Bridge started to protest, but another round of heaves cut him off for a moment. He didn't have anything else to throw up, given that he hadn't eaten anything yet, so they were just dry heaves that Bridge managed to muscle through long enough to speak.

"Don't want to," he said through grit teeth, before another set of convulsions made him gag over the bin again. It was only the one gag, though, and nothing came up. Bridge started to push the bin away, and Sky hesitantly set it on the floor, pushing it away with his foot. The smell was pretty bad, and he was pretty sure Bridge had nothing else to throw up.

Sky grabbed the wet washcloth from the basin on Bridge's bedside table and ran it gently over Bridge's face and mouth. Kat had called for a cadet to bring it in when Bridge had first started to feel sick, and Sky was grateful for the foresight.

"Baby, if you go back to the medical bay, they can give you something to help with the headache." Even as he said it, though, Sky knew it was a losing battle. Bridge really did hate the medical bay, and even if he didn't, he knew he'd be hard pressed to convince Bridge to brave the corridors again.

As expected, Bridge shook his head. "I just want to lay down," he said, and without waiting for anyone else's go ahead, that's exactly what he started to do. He just started to fall back onto his bed, but luckily, Sky had fast enough reflexes to catch him this time. He looked at Kat.

After a moment's hesitation, she finally nodded. None of Bridge's injuries were life-threatening, so he didn't _have_ to be in the medical bay. Right now, it was all about keeping the young Ranger comfortable, and if that meant staying in his room, then she was willing to go along with it. At least, for now.

With Kat's blessing, Sky stood up from the bed and hooked an arm under Bridge's knees. He was careful with them, especially the left one, as he turned Bridge around so that he was lying on the bed.

Bridge immediately tried to roll over – he liked to curl up when he felt bad – but Sky stopped him. The cuts on his back didn't lend themselves well to any stretch or strain, and besides, he had to keep his knee elevated. Sky'd had the good sense to dim the lights to their lowest setting, though, so it wasn't that bright.

Reaching into her lab coat pocket, Kat produced two bottles which she handed to Sky. "Fenegrin for the nausea and here's the usual analgesic. He can have a fenegrin now, and he can have it with his next dose of pain medicine in four hours."

Sky nodded and set the bottles on the night stand, well out of Bridge's reach just to be safe. "Do I need to keep with the concussion checks?" he asked. He was pretty sure Bridge was getting ready to deck him for doing them a while ago, but now that his headache was back to a roaring start, he thought it might be a good idea again.

Thankfully, though, Kat shook her head. "If he can get to sleep, let him sleep. The fenegrin should help with that, if he can keep it down. Just comm. me if you need me."

"I will. Thank you, Doctor Manx."

"Any time," Kat said. With that, she left the two in peace.

After waiting for the door to close behind the doctor, Sky grabbed the fenegrin bottle off the table and shook out one of the pills into his hand. "Hey, Bridge, you need to take something real quick for me, and then you can sleep, okay?" he said as he sat down on the side of Bridge's bed. The young Ranger gave every appearance of already being asleep, except his eyebrows were drawn in and his face was twisted in the most pitiful expression of pain he'd ever seen. "Come on, baby, you heard Doctor Manx. This'll help you sleep."

Sky wasn't sure if that actually swayed him, or if he just wanted to be left alone, but Bridge finally opened his eye a little. Sky took that as a sign of cooperation and gently eased Bridge up so that he was more or less sitting.

Taking the pill from Sky's hand, Bridge popped it in his mouth and swallowed. Sky had never understood how Bridge could dry swallow pills, and he for one wanted this one to go down as well as possible. He grabbed the glass of water of the bedside table and held it up to Bridge's lips. Bridge accepted the drink gratefully, and then let his eye slide closed again as Sky returned the glass to the table.

"Just try to get some sleep now, okay?" Sky said as he helped Bridge to lie back down. After pulling slipping a pillow under his knee to keep it elevated, he pulled the blanket up over his sick boyfriend and pressed a kiss to his brow. "Let me know if you need anything."

He decided to take Bridge's uncharacteristic silence as a form of consent, and straightened back up. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, he carried the stomach-churning trash bin out into the hall and pressed the call button for janitorial to take care of it.

He had his own worrying messes to take care of back inside his room.


End file.
